


love around the clock

by simplyprologue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, F/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Marcus draws his hands down her back, fingers tripping over the notches of her spine, until he can cup his hands over her ass and slot their hips together.</i> Six different times of day, six different kinds of making love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love around the clock

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** There is absolutely no reason for this except that I felt like writing smut. Blame Laine, probably. Set in the vague nebulous post-ALIE future where everything has been hashed out and trauma recovered from. Also not supposed to be read as taking place over the course of one day. Unless you wanna headcanon that they're superheroes. In which case...

**_2:40 AM_ **

Her body is warm and soft; he wakes up with her lips on his shoulder and little puffs of breath escaping her nose, soft exhalations in long intervals meeting his neck. Their clothes are still on the floor. Marcus draws his hands down her back, fingers tripping over the notches of her spine, until he can cup his hands over her ass and slot their hips together.

In her sleep, Abby makes a high-pitched noise, almost like a sigh. Shifting, she buries her head against him. Her tongue escapes her lips, licking against his throat. The erection he woke up with pulses, and he pushes it into her thigh. She sighs again, fingers fanning out over his back, making him shiver. Inhaling deeply, he presses his face to the crown of her head – Abby’s hair smells like it always does. Like antiseptic, lavender, and sweat. He’s the only one who gets close enough to know her smells, to know that her hands smell powdery and her neck smells like salt, that the valley between her breasts smells deep like musk and the tang of her soap, and between her thighs smells like sweet earth, and summer, and home.

“Honey?” She squirms against him when he slides a hand between her thighs. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I want you.”

His voice is low and raspy, like sand over stone. She makes the high little noise again, but this time it sounds like a whimper.

“Oh.” Her hand comes down between them to wrap around his erection.

A bolt of arousal shudders down to the base of his spine; her thumb presses into the knot of nerves below the head of his cock, teasing him. Wetness beads at the tip of his hardness, she swirls her thumb over the slit, and then fists her fingers around him. “Goddamn—”

He clenches his fingers in her hair, rolling her onto her back.

With a thoughtful hum and her eyes still closed, Abby aligns him at her entrance, and lets him push into her.

 

 

**_7:15 AM_ **

She pulls the blankets back up over her head, burrowing down into the mattress. “I’m not getting out of bed.”

Turning onto his side towards her, he slides his hands under the covers, curling his fingers into her hips. He doesn’t know why, but Marcus never anticipated that Abby would be the kind of person who can’t wake up in the morning. It’s not a failure of her training, or a defect in her motherhood – when a procedure needs to be done or one of their delinquent children require her presence, she can bound out of bed easily. But on a regular morning, with nothing but meetings on the docket?

Yawning, she curls up into herself.

“What if I give you an incentive?” Palming her thigh, he pulls her leg back over his hip until she’s open to him. One hand finds her clit, the other reaches under her waist and up to her breasts, teasing her nipples to hardness.

Nerves wringing her body, she nods her assent.

From behind, it feels like he fills her to completion. With each slow thrust the head of his cock pushes against the flat of muscle behind her entrance, forcing low moans and whimpers from her throat. It’s slow, and her morning-trapped muscles keep her from doing much more that writhing back against him and encouraging him with her voice and the fluttering at her center.

“Marcus…” she hisses, trapping the _s_ at the end of his name between her teeth and refusing to let it go.

His nails bite into her hip, leaving her with bruises that she’ll carry with her the rest of the day.

 

 

**_12:00 PM_ **

What they lack in a good angle he makes up for with speed and friction. They know from past experience that the council table isn’t the optimal place for an afternoon quickie, but medical is too crowded and his quarters are too far away and their next meeting is just down the hall.

Keeping one hand on her waist to balance her on the table’s edge, Marcus clamps his hand over Abby’s mouth as her cries start to echo off the walls. He’d let her muffle herself against his shoulder but he already has his hair to explain, and he’d really rather not have a hickey to contend with when facing the teens of Arkadia.

Again.

The heels of her boots dig into his back, urging him closer.

Panting, he feels his orgasm building deep in the base of his back. She’s so tight at this angle, her legs wrapped around him and her hips tilting to take him deep, the wet slap of their hips marking every piston of his cock into her. “Are you close?”

Her tongue slides out from between her lips, licking at his fingers. One of her hands detangles from his hair, sliding flat down the plane of her body to their meeting place. Rubbing tight circles into her clit, she lets her head fall back, hair shaking loose from her sloppy ponytail. The muscles at her core clench down onto him, and it feels like she’s stuck in a loop of pleasure – her clit tightens her around his cock, which flares inside her, making her hips bear down with a shuddering gasp and stretch her even further, teasing the inflamed skin covering her clit. She touches herself faster, swirling her pleasure into a near-painful vortex.

“Come for me,” he growls, pumping into her. “Come on. That’s it, beautiful.”

Mouth dropping open, she sucks his index finger into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it. A tortured look grips his features.

With a quieted mewl, her body breaks over his.

 

 

**_5:45 PM_ **

Her lips fit over the head of his erection, and god does it feel good. They have fifteen minutes until dinner in the mess hall, not nearly enough time to reciprocate, but Marcus Kane isn’t the sort of man to question blessings in the many forms Abby Griffin visits them upon him.

Shifting onto her knees, she wraps her one hand around the base of his cock, and he feels himself throbbing against her palm. Slowly, she drags her hand up to meet her lips, then pushes it back down. His pulse leaps towards her, the slow build of his climax pitching forwards when she hollows her cheeks around him. The sound he makes is wordless and pleading, his hands slapping down onto his desk behind him. With a mischievous look in her eyes, she takes one of his hands and places it on the back of her skull.

Fingers trembling, he gathers her hair away from her face, looking down to see his hardness disappearing into her red-lipped mouth.

She runs her fingers along the length of him, smirking when he jumps at her lighter touch. Her tongue follows her fingers, the flat of it licking a stripe over the vein on the underside of his cock as her hand pinches a tight circle around his tip, wringing clear fluid from the slit. She gives him another long slow lick, and then gets back to business – she likes making the stoic and composed Marcus Kane lose his control.

His dick is heavy in her mouth, thick and hard and responsive to tongue and suction.

Gripping her hair against her crown, he pushes her down gently, until she’s taken as much of her length in her mouth as she can. Then, she tilts her head back, and swallows more. Marcus’ fingers push deep into her waves, his eyes falling closed with pleasure.

Polite, but assertive.

Breathing through her nose, she draws back, wrapping both her hands around him and starts working him towards orgasm. He chokes out her name when he pours into her mouth, face flushing a deep red.

 

 

**_9:05 PM_ **

Water conservation – _save water, shower with a friend!_ It’s not an official initiative, because they’re not that desperate anymore, but the extreme measures lasted just long enough for pickup lines to spring from them.

Marcus rinses the conditioner from her hair, fingers massaging her scalp, then her shoulders, before moving down to her breasts. Her nipples pebble at his touch, and he backs her up against the wall of the shower and leans down to take one into his warm wet mouth. Abby hums happily, threading her hand through his wet curls. He rolls one nipple between his teeth, gently nipping and playing, and then shifts his focus to the other one.

They are definitely not saving any water.

They’re both tired, but not too tired to do this. With exhausted hands they ready each other for intimacy, expert touches sparking arousal like a match to flint. It’s a benefit of age and monogamy, a warm comfort that comes with being well-versed in the other’s body.

She lifts her foot, bracing it on the ledge of the tub.

Wrapping his arms around her and pinning her to the wall, he enters her, cleaving her a drowsy sort of slowness. “This good?” he asks, watching as she nods. Her eyes, pupils blown wide and dark by lust, lock onto his. “Good.” He bends his knees, and thrusts into her, until he’s seated in her to bottom. “Fuck.”

“Keep going,” she murmurs over the sound of the water pouring down over them.

Draping her arms over his shoulders, she brings their mouths together. Her kiss is sweet and lingering, her tongue tracing his bottom lip. Instinct tells him to thrust up in her, take her until they’re both struggling to stand.

He rocks into her, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

 

 

**_11:30 PM_ **

When he’s drunk, words fall from his lips like a waterfall. At some point the river makes it to the crest, spilling over, and doesn’t stop until he’s dried out in the morning. He tells her that he loves her at least a dozen times, the words dripping off his lips with rapid passion as their mouths meet, and they try to drown each other. It’s all very romantic, right up until the point where he absolutely _will not_ shut up.

Having quite a few cups of moonshine herself, Abby has no qualms shoving Marcus down onto their bed and climbing atop him.

“Abigail, did I ever tell you—”

Kicking her pants off and down to the floor, she scales his body, planting her knees on either side of his head. For the first time in what feels like hours, he stops talking. Enraptured, he looks up at her folds, bending his head to look at her center. Taking a deep breath, he lifts one of his hands to fit his thumb over her clit.

“This is a nice vantage point,” he says.

Then he grabs and holds onto her ass, pulling her down to sit on his face. His mouth feels like it’s everywhere, tonguing the ring of muscle at her entrance before swirling it upwards. He eats her out with enthusiasm and aplomb, sucking and kissing and pulling her down to use her weight against his mouth and nose. He is surrounded by her wetness and gives back the wetness from his mouth, not letting up until her thighs begin to shake.

Her hands scrabble for something to hold onto – she grabs their headboard, before carding the fingers on one of her hands through his hair.

_“Marcus.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
